John called everyone into the rectangular-shaped room on the second floor of the mosque. The six women dressed in the traditional Nubian black abayas (long tunic) finally settled into their places on padded wooded benches along the perimeter of the concrete pink-painted room. I looked at my phone and noted that it was 9:30 pm. Our teacher training meeting had been scheduled for 8:30 pm, but the Ramadan schedule, evening prayers and life in general pushed the start time an hour later.
Our colleagues (American and Egyptian) were with us for teaching, support and translation. We needed all of it as we were beginning a new workshop training the local preschool teachers in our village. In the Spring, we had launched a pilot activity-based learning project called Inspire Early Learning Program. Twice a week for 3-hour sessions, 15 children ages 3-5 experienced learning through hands-on, motion experiences. As part of the program, we held “Mom Meetings” each week and visited every home during the term.
We received positive feedback which resulted in the teacher training workshop that we are leading right now. As teachers, we like to get a plan, work the plan and then hone the plan. In this culture that can be challenging.
Since we had translation, we had to remember that our presentation takes twice as long. We were already an hour behind. John was doing his best to try to give the “Reader’s Digest” version, but some things you just can’t skim over. As he presented, I noticed trickles of sweat forming at my brow. 10 pm at night and it’s over 100º in the room where we’re teaching.
“Quit your whining, Pam!” I threatened myself. (My kingdom for a sno-cone vendor to happen by…)
The women were engaged asking questions and reiterating concepts. Things were going well. The imam (pastor) of the mosque came in, greeted me and began snapping pictures. I tried to keep smiling from all angles. He then just as quickly left.
My friend, Karen, and I had baked goods ready for the “half-time” break. I began to prepare them while John continued teaching. Around 10:30 pm, the imam returned with a bag of juice boxes for all of us. I thanked him profusely and he sheepishly smiled as he exited. Soon after, he took to the mosque microphone and began reciting the Quran (a tradition during Ramadan).
The loud speaker (emphasis on “loud”) seemed to be facing directly toward the window of our classroom. John is now shouting to be heard. The women were nonplussed by it all…the heat, the loudspeaker, the late hour.
I whispered to John, “Are you ready to take a break?”
He answered, “I’ll be finished in 2 minutes.”
“Then a break?” I asked.
“No break. We will be done,” he said emphatically. As a teacher, he knew when to cut his losses. We simply couldn’t compete with all that was happening. He had gotten in a good block of teaching with interaction and he was satisfied with that.
Karen and I passed out the sweets as her husband, Bill, handed out the juice boxes. John continued answering questions, over the loud speaker and through translation. (He does speak Arabic, but it is never a bad idea to have a translator in moments like these.)
One woman apparently enraptured by all that she heard asked, “So….who painted the tree on the wall?”
There was indeed a tree with letters of the English alphabet painted on the wall. She was curious and asked the question. John and the rest of the team had talked, demonstrated, drawn, gestured, translated, retranslated, and more to make sure that the teaching concepts were getting through. This sweet lady’s big question of the night was, “Who painted the tree?” I couldn’t stop laughing.
I guess she had wondered about that throughout the evening and really wanted to know. John told her and she seemed satisfied. Thankfully, some of the others asked questions more directly related to our topic.
The women thanked us for our baking and began making plans for the next meeting. We said our goodbyes and made our way back to the flat. Ramadan is now over. It’s Eid here which is a 3 day holiday to celebrate the end of the fast. We’ll meet with the teachers again next week after the celebration, after the parties, after life has resumed to normal…for them.
For us, life has not been normal since December 31, 2008 when John, Emileigh, Aria and I stepped foot on the plane to work overseas, in Africa, in cultures very different from our own. No, “normal” is not in our vocabulary any more, but it’s okay. We traded normal for the opportunity to influence, love and learn. Crossing boundaries geographically , socially and culturally requires risk and hard work. Our lives are rich…they’re also sweaty, loud and sometimes chaotic. Yet it’s still very much worth it to know and be known by such beautiful people that Jesus loves.
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